Just a tragic love story
by halucynacja
Summary: And this is ladies and gentlemen in all its glory: A love story like none other. Or more like a crackfic like none other. Because the world seems not to have enough crackfics. A story that by all means should not have come to existence. Yet there it is. May your mind and sanity never be the same again.


It was a dark stormy night.

The wind was howling outside on the streets and thrashing the endangered wildness, thunder could be heard in the nearby forest. Small raindrops were literally bombing onto the cool glass surface of the windows of the shops. Insofar it had yet to cease, the downpour having almost drowned the already damp streets, stalls and other things left by the people in the face of the upcoming storm.

No soul has been brave enough to venture the alleys of the Kabukicho district.

Yet in the midst of all the chaos a small figure managed to hide in one of the stalls.

Precisely in that moment a loud lightening hit onto the wet stony ground and a loud crack resounded in the area. It had been as though a canon had been fired.

And yet the small figure stood proudly with not even a crack on its beautiful unmarred face despite having been hidden by a thrown blanket and a knocked over orange stand. In the last minute it managed to get into the safe zone before the thunder struck onto the floor of stone.

It seemed like hours for the ongoing storm and harshly pouring rain. In a place like that for the small wooden figure to still stand in an agonizingly straight stance it must have been a torture for anyone else. Like a star-like royalty among fallen ones in a harsh world of gloom and wetness.

It was a lonely and deserted place with no company and not even a living being in the near distance.

But there seemed to be an aura. A strong one emanating from a rather dirty corner. An object glistening and dirty yet sacred in a way only young maiden managed to achieve was safely tucked away in the corner of the blanket.

On the other side the wooden figure stood still if not in shock by the previous stand of oranges. It's vividly black eyes that were probably painted by a rather clumsy hand of a guy much too used to the pachinko parlor seemed to have a glint or a shine at the sullen sight of the unknown object.

Another crack and another boom resounded in the neighborhood.

An unforgiving blast of cold wind pushed the dirty blanket altogether with the object closer to the fallen stand and its temporary occupant.

Thanks to the flash of the thunder it revealed a damp and soiled yet round around the corners bowl of ramen.

And what a bowl it was!

Its roundness oozing an uncommon softness and warmth.

The glistening metal having a beauty of its own.

And the unopened lid that made anyone worthy called a being of emotions wonder about its contents.

For a while there had been nothing but silence safe for the pitter of the rain, the howling of the wind, the cracks made by the thunder and other worrying sounds that didn't even belong to the wild nature.

Yet for the keen eye it had been truly an awkward and tense moment of suffocating silence.

Two objects brought together by the harshness of the nature. One belonging to the radiance of the sun and the other being the bowl of hidden content unknown to the world, or more like the wooden object.

It might have been impossible. Even insane one could say though it was that moment. Yes, that exact moment for them to feel.

Yes, feel.

The first emotion given to them, blessed and glorified within thousands of years, having its own dark nature and past.

Yes, a clear violation to the nature itself in many, many ways and layers.

It was love in the purest and most innocent form.

An celestial being without a corporal shape given to these two objects.

A bowl of Ichiraku Pork Ramen and a Justaway.

A poor common object and a royal rare figure.

One with only a single use and one with many uses.

One could say it was impossible.

And even the author agrees it was impossible. But for these two it was like a match made in heaven.

Something sacred and eternal.

The silence broke into a more comfortable one.

If seen in a more abstract way one would notice the shy gaze reflected in the depths of the metal bowl and the intense if not even outright transfixed stare swathed in form of two badly shaped eyes which despite its imperfection remained their royal color.

It was clear to them like day and night.

Like light and dark.

Like fire and water.

Like the blazing sun with its hot flames and the cool moon with its shining stars.

Just like that an understanding was formed, an affair of objects not meant to be together.

Nothing could stand in their way. In the way of their visions, their dreams and their mutual future.

A future of ringing bells and flying pigeons. Of thrown rice and a bucket of flower noodles. Of the flight in wooden planes and vacation in equally wooden houses in the tropics. Of hot steamy smoke coming from the at last opened lid and the smudges of ramen on the wooden face. A happy aura always surrounding them.

And then in the near future there would be loud crying to be heard.

The screeching of an old but affordable electric clock with its precisely timed three minutes for the ramen to cook.

And then if time went on, they would still be together.

An old crooked bowl with patches of black on the dark metal surface and an old cracked piece of wood with splinters.

Always. Together.

.

.

.

And just like that the storm ceased to be, rain stopped altogether, the harsh wind left only a light breeze behind and a rainbow appeared above the lone stall of abandoned oranges where under a blanket stood a bowl of Ichirakus best pork ramen and the King of Justaways, the Justaway.

Slowly life came to the street with people worrying, screaming and helping out to get everything in order but for the two of them there was silence. Like the first time they met regardless that it was only a few hours ago.

SCREECH!

CRASH!

And with a sudden movement a motorcycle came to a halt led by a perm haired person who seemed not to give any thought to absolutely anything and the trail of people and a pet, meaning a giant white dog whose inconsiderate nature made him stomp on the blanket without any thought to the blooming love beneath, the pet's owner a loud-mouthed girl who also had the gall to beat the silver head onto the blanket resulting in a painful crack and lastly a boy wearing glasses who could only shake his head in exasperation.

A sudden shiver overcame the four of them. A moment of silence overcame them in order to process the feeling of unease and surprisingly deep guilt.

The first to speak was the brown haired boy.

"Hey, don't you think that we may have interrupted something very important?"

He looked a bit pale on the face in spite of his friends blank expression.

"Nah, it must be a cold. With that freaking weather. You're reading too much into it, Patusan?"

"Don't call me that!"

With that they escaped, well, went away from the scene of crime where underneath a dirty blanket lay a shattered bowl of spoilt ramen and pieces of painted wood.

Well, their love was never meant to be anyway.

The end.

Really, it was just a bowl of old ramen and a toy not meant for anything. Nothing else.

* * *

Epilogue

In a world far, far away from the happening, so far away that even the author had problems to exactly pin-point the location a loud painful cry could be heard. Its sound so deep and agonizing with its sheer shrills that the world seemed to tremble because of it.

Its strength was enough to make a wave of earthquakes around that world.

People were scared, the animals fled to all directions, the buildings shook, windows burst to pieces.

Simply it was a pandemonium in broad daylight.

But as the echoes of the wails carried on its words became apparent enough to make out the whole statement.

"WHERE IS MY RAMEEEEEN!?"


End file.
